Maybe I'm teaching this weekend

After planning out a month worth of lessons for the beginning class (course one), Emma had me start planning for course three. This was a major challenge for several reasons. Firstly, I don't know exactly how much the students know (although if I was a bit smarter about it, I would consult the syllabus she gave me on my third day here). Second, I don't know how difficult certain things will be for the students. There are a few other things, but every time I have a question, Emma is really helpful. I don't think I could have landed in a better place.

I'll find out on Friday if I will start teaching or not. Apparently students are still enrolling and they need more students to make a class.

So tomorrow is the first day of my weekend. Guess what I'm going to do? Every woman's favorite thing: shop for a bra. Back in the states, I boycotted them. A few studies have shown that women who wear bras have a higher risk of developing breast cancer, and the risk goes up the more you wear them. So for the last three years, I haven't worn one. I reluctantly bought three sports bras before leaving Madison, but I'm finding that blouses here don't fit properly even with one of those things strapping my boobs down. The clothes are cut in feminine way. In fact, many of the manequines have lovely breasts indeed, so much so that it looks they aren't wearing bras. I really need more than five tops, so I will succumb and by a stupid bra or two (or three or four). I'm glad that I don't have to wash them. There isn't a washing machine in my apartment building so I haul all soiled clothes down the hill to a laudromat. This isn't like an American one, though. You drop your clothes off and they'll wash and iron everything for you, even your underwear gets ironed.

Is there anything you want to hear about in particular? Leave a comment to let me know, K?

Deep Thought of the Day

It's amazing how much one has to adapt when something as simple as verbal language is taken away from them. In the last week or so, I've noticed that it's quite easy to listen to my intuition. I would never have noticed this in the States, because there are too many distractions. Here, I don't have a choice. It's a matter of survival.

For instance, this morning I was walking around one of the many busy streets in this city, and as I sometimes tend to space out when crossing the street, I walked right in front of a car. If it hadn't been for my intuition, I wouldn't have looked and seen this car about to hit me. As it was, I did look and got out of the way and survived to make it to this computer where I am now typing. For some reason, without the ablility to communicate complex thoughts to just anyone, I can now tell the difference between my intuition telling me something is a good or bad idea, my desire telling me I really want something, and if I'm worrying unneccessarily about something.

Shopkeepers and Turkish food

Last night I made granola at Emma's house and it tasted soooo good this morning. (Hint for care package idea here. Maple syrup, unavailable here, is my favorite.)

I spent a majority of the day planning lessons, but I managed to get a fair amount of walking in as well. The Turks have an amazing ability to built seemingly random streets that somehow connect to each other. Keeping my sense of direction has been challenging, but I have one thing working for me: the mountains. Down a hill is always north. Even so, when the area is relatively flat, finding a direction is near impossible due to all the buildings sqeezed into small areas. Even though Trabzon has only 50,000 more people than Madison, it feels like a much bigger city. Traffic is always busy, shops are always packed, and city noise is constant. The only exception is Sunday, when about half the shopkeepers take the day off. An interesting thing about shopkeepers, they often be seen hanging out in the doorway of their shop, sweeping or mopping the walk in front, or sitting somewhere relatively close by outside. I have developed good relationships with a couple shopkeepers here, even though I hardly speak Turkish. The place where I buy my beloved baklava (and her cousins) is called Ren. Muzafer is the owner and has pledged to me that he will sign up for English classes where I teach. I buy room tempertature water every day at a shop next to the school, and it is there where the shopkeeper taught me the words for cold, warm, and hot. I want to make friends with two girls who work at another pastry shop who wear pink blouses and pink hats and serve you whatever delicacy you pick out. On my fourth day here, I went there and as I was deciding what pastry I wanted, they giggled and smiled in my direction. Huddled close together, I could tell they were talking about me. One girl said to me, "very beautiful!" and pointed to my nose ring. Every time since then, I have not seen them.

Walking around Trabzon, I have met many shopkeepers. They are all very understanding and patient when I try to speak Turkish with them. In fact, many of them are eager to speak English with me, so our conversations end up being formed of broken language bits on both sides. It's quite fun!

Yesterday I had lunch at a place the made only pide, and I got to watch the guy make it. "What's that?" you may ask. Allow me to enlighten you. (wink) It's a bit of yeast dough padded out into an oval shape. (The guy I saw didn't use a rolling pin. He hit it and padded it with his fingers.) Then one of several menu items can be scooped on it and spread out: cheese, bits of meat with tomato, sheep cheese, fish with peppers and tomatoes, or other combinations of other things. Then the sides are folded up (the cheese ones are closed entirely), eggs painted on the dough part, and put into an old bakers oven that all the bread companies put on their label when you know they don't do it that way anymore. You know the kind I speak of, where the item to be baked is put on a wooden paddle and inserted into a brick oven. There the pides bake for about 10 minutes or so and are taken out. The extra flour is dusted off with a little broom, and then the pide receives a generous dollap of homemade butter, and served. I didn't know which one to order (I couldn't understand the menu) so I took the waiter's reccommendation: pide with small bits of beef with tomatoes and peppers. It was yummy.

Have I failed to mention that I am not pretending to be vegetarian here? Last time I came to Turkey, I nearly made myself crazy trying to cling to American ideals of diet and politics. The Turks are much more connected to their food than most of the people in the US, so the meat tastes unbelievably heavenly. That said, I still have trouble convincing my brain (and sometimes my body) that eating meat is okay.

Oh! I forgot to tell you about the "surprise" the school had for John and me. It was a BBQ, as Emma let slip out, but rather than lots of people that I had expected to be there, it was just the school staff and their spouses. It was lovely, really. We had barbequed horse mackere and regular mackerel. (Horse mackerel is half the size of regular mackerel.) It tasted really good, but I had to eat slowly because of all the tiny bones. Those things can seriously cut up your gums, as I found out when I got a bone stuck in my thumb! We ate on the roof of the school, from where we can see the Black Sea and the sunset. Aaaah. For the next 12 hours, however, my fingers smelled like fish no matter how much I washed them.

Trabzon in the morning and Aya Sofia

The last three mornings I have been exploring differnt pockets of the seaside city. This morning I did less walking around than the other two mornings simply because I woke up at 5 am, even before the call the prayer sounded. Since sleep was beyond any realm of possiblity, I decided to watch the sunrise.







These give you an idea of what Trabzon looks like.





If you look closely, you can see lots of clothes hanging out to dry. Nobody here owns a dryer. I wonder what they do in the winter.

Later this afternoon, Emma took John and I to the Aya Sofia of Trabzon. It was, of course, much smaller than the one in Istanbul, but none the less beautiful. It was built in the 1400s and was first a cathedral, then a mosque, at some point a military hospital, a mosque again, and then abandoned. Only recently has it been restored. Most of the frescoes have been scraped off, but some remained. What is still visible is breathtaking.











Next to the museum was a tea garden in which we ate the most delicious food. Here is a Trabzon specialty, kuymak. Only three ingredients are needed to make this custardy tasting dish: corn flour, butter, and cheese. It is served warm and has a smooth consistency to it. Contrary to how it looks, it is quite yummy.



Aya Sofia is almost on the shore. In fact, it used to be right on the shore. The Black Sea has changed the coastline dramatically in even the few years that Emma has been here (about 4). Somebody recently had the brilliant idea to take chunks of nearby mountains and re-extend the shoreline and they are now attempting to build a highway that goes all along the Black Sea coast. The road has faced strong opposition from many fronts, geologists and locals alike. I’m not sure why they are contiuning with the project as the road is very highly likely to be washed away. Even so, construction is taking place with hopes of connecting a highway from İstanbul to Armenia.



You can’t see it in the photo, but there are sheep grazing underneath the bridge.

Sorry if some of the photos are too big in the post. Some of them I felt had to be larger so you could see the details better. Enjoy!

Sümela Monastery

Ok, folks, here are the pictures of Sümela that I promised, and more.



I saw this about halfway up the mountain, which was quite a hike. Not only was part of the path under construction with no real detour, it was rocky most of the way up with a solid dirt path on the inner side. This wasn't a problem until we came down as the packed earth didn't offer much in the way of traction.

This was the first view after paying the entry fee and climbing a hell of a lot of steps.



Restoration work has only recently begun, so visitors are not allowed in about half of the monastery. Many of the frescoes that are within arms length have been vandalized as the place sat unattended for a period of time after World War II. Now, however, the attendants are strict about using flash photography. I accidently got this photo of the frescoes inside the church (which is partly carved out of the mountain) because I forgot to turn off my flash. Oopsie!



The pock marks near the bottom of the picture are not vandalism. Notice the grey line under the people; that is the plaster in which the paintings are on, which is about an inch thick. The old frescoes were redone at some point, and in order to get them to stay on the wall, the artisans made pock marks for the plaster to grasp on to. In some places in the church, all you see is old frescoes with lots of pock marks.

Regarding all the rest of the interior, many of the paintings seemed to have some things in common, like the number eleven. Not sure why that is. Anyone have any insights? (Princess of Power?)

Here you can see how cozy the church is up against the mountain.



These are on the outside of the church. Again, the faces are scratched out because the Islamic faith prohibits worshipping anything that is meant to represent a holy figure. You'll notice in the pictures of the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii) that there are no religous figures. (see previous post)



Clouds were coming in, so we quickly made our way to the top of the adjacent mountain so I could get this photo.



Then I went home and slept a bunch. Climbing the mountain was hard work!

Teacher, teacher

Three days of lesson planning down! While it's still slow-going, I am feeling better about the whole thing. Last night I was beginning to feel a bit down, like I'll never make it through the first week. So I made up my mind to go on a long walk in the morning.

It did me a world of good! So friends, I reccommend throwing all your cares into your feet and start moving your body. If you can get to water, do so. Just looking at vast open areas of water has a calming effect (affect? effect? Oh my word, I'm supposed to be an English teacher and I don't know which one to use!) on the mind. Today I my stamina for planning and concentrating was much better. Also, reading all the lovely comments you all have written makes me so happy. I feel so loved!

Tomorrow night there is a surprise event planned for John and I. Well, it's not much of a surprise if we know about it, but apparently it's a BBQ where there will be a lot of people that are excited to meet us. I hear that they are especially interested in speaking with me because word got out that I'm not a fan of Bush. When I first got here, Emma confided to me that she wanted to have an American teacher on staff because many of the students have this misconception that all Americans like the man. She warned me that I should be prepared to answer questions about the political situation in the States. I was a bit surprised (and pleased) when she told me this, because I wasn't sure how much politics I would be able to be able to talk about. Not that I have that as an agenda, but I was thinking about it when I was thinking about which books I would be able to present in the classroom. Now I wish I had bought that book titled Bushisms by somebody or other.

Until next time, folks!

Planning lessons lead me to this

In order to practice numbers, I thought it would be funny to give out the Simpsons phone number. Imagine my surprise when I found this website.

http://simpsonscollege.tvheaven.com/index.html

To kick yourself in the pants, click on S.A.T.

First day of work

I'm not teaching yet, but I've started planning lessons. Oh. My. Word. It's a lot more difficult than one might imagine. At least at first. Today John and I sat for about 5 or 6 hours planning three hours! I am pleased with what I planned, but man! did it take a while. I don't know exactly when I'll start teaching. The university students started today (most of our clientele) and they haven't figured out their schedules just yet. I sat in a class on the weekend and most of the students are extremely shy. Emma said they are scared to talk to us because they don't know us. She also revealed that they're even more hesitant to speak to John because he looks so much more professional. He's very smartly dressed and carries an attache case. I also think the fact that he's so much older than them is intimidating. In the class we observed together we played charades and he had to act like a monkey. Hopefully this gave the impression to the students that he is playful.

Yesterday Emma and her husband, Enis (like 'Dennis' without the 'd'), took us up to Sumela. It was up in the mountains about a 45 minute drive away. It's the oldest place that I've ever been to, built in the 4th century. It was way cool. I took some photos, but haven't had a chance to upload them yet. In the meantime, go to http://www.anatolia.luwo.be/index.htm?Sumela.htm&1 and check it out.

In other news, I'm reading a book by an American author who has defected to England: A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. He's really funny and down-to-earth. In this book he talks mostly about the recent history of astronomy, geography, paleontology, and chemistry to name a few. I'd like to get my hands on The Mother Tongue but at the moment it's impossible. In that book he talks about the differences between British and American English. This is of great interest to me since I'll be teaching the former, even though I know nothing about it. So if anyone wants to volunteer to be my mailing address and then forward ordered books to Turkey for me, please tell me! I learned that if I order books on the Internet, they won't ship them to Turkey. Why? I'm not really sure. It's a bummer though.

Well, that's all for tonight. Iyi akshamlar!

Shopping in Trabzon

I just got done with a zip-ah-dee-doo-dah shopping spree. I needed some things and Emma knew where to get them, so we did it quick and efficient like. Things are so incredibly cheap here that I didn't hesitate to buy a brand new pair of pants for $8, a few new shirts (brand name) for $10, a new purse for $20, some hair thingees for a few dollars, and a new pair of locally hand made leather shoes for $40. Pretty cheap! There is this one store that sells brands like Gap, Tommy Hilfiger and stuff for dirt cheap. Sometimes the clothes have tags that say $58, but there is some tiny thing wrong with it so the item never made it to the states. It's ridiculous.

I'm in Trabzon!

So as I already mentioned, it was difficult to sleep on the plane because I had a view of the coast pretty much the whole time. It looked just like all the maps I had been pouring over for months! No pictures cuz y'all misbehavin and not posting any comments. (wink wink) I tried to take a picture, but it just came out as a blue haze. I do have a photo of the view from my balcony in my new apartment!



The little building to the right (and two unseen others on the left) used to belong to the forest managers way back when. Trabzon used to be much smaller. It's pretty hilly here because the mountains go all the way to the water. In fact, the hill that I have to walk up in order to get home is so steep that as soon as I walk in the living room the back of my legs ache. Stretching is a must! Gone are my worries about getting enough exercise.

I live with one other teacher, John, from Ireland. He's in his early fifties and just got back from a year in Saudi Arabia. The culture there was much more strict than it is here, so much so that he was surprised last night to see a group of women in a cafe without a man with them. Also in Saudi Arabia, the religious police make sure everyone is praying when they are supposed to. He has expressed some relief that the Turks are much more laid back.

Oh! One other thing for all of you worrying about earthquakes. Trabzon is not on a fault line, unlike the majority of the country, although it is possible to feel tremors from nearby. When I first got to Istanbul a few years ago, I had nightmares that a movie theatre would collaspe on me!

My job seems really laid back (although as far as teaching goes, I have a lot to learn). I have a feeling that once I get the hang of teaching that I'm going to have such a blast!

Istanbul: my first weekend

Well, here I am, the place I've been thinking about since July.



It seems a bit like a dream sometimes. Other times I think to myself, "Holy smokes! I'm really here!"I've been keeping a journal of everything, but it would take a long time to write everything I've been doing, so I'll just summarize:

I almost missed my flight out of Chicago. Nevermind that I arrived three and a half hours early to the airport. Nevermind that I sat at the correct gate for two. My legs got tired of sitting so at 5:30 pm I decided to go for a walk. I walked for an hour, thinking that boarding time for the 6:55 flight wasn’t until 6:45. At 6:30 they announced the final boarding call over the airport PA system.

“That’s my flight!” It felt really good for my legs to run 10 gates, but I was the very last person to get on the plane. (As it turned out, I didn’t have to fight any crowds so it was much easier to find my seat and put my things away. I reccomend this technique to anyone boarding a plane.) The Indian security guard (I was flying with Air India) scolded me for being so absent minded. Once I found my seat and settled myself, the girl next to me said they had started boarding at 5:45. Man, my spacey brain almost cost me dearly. This flight only flies once a week!

As the plane wasn’t very crowded, I was able to snag a couple seats and sleep for about 3 hours. Then I had a layover in Frankfurt, which was mildly frustrating because I consider Germany my second home and I wasn’t able to leave the airport and enjoy it. For one, I had two bags and an instrument to lug around. Secondly, I left all my relatives phone numbers in Madison. I’m such a genius. So I spent my time hanging out in the gate that I was to leave from. No chance of me missing any flights this time! Nothing else to do but sleep.

Upon waking from a nap, I found myself talking with a group of retired professionals who were going to Bodrum (southern Turkey) for vacation. One gentleman, a retired professor from a Boston university (I think) began telling me about the Black Sea. Did you know that below a certain level, there is absolutely no oxygen in the Black Sea? I’m not sure yet as to why this is, but it has something to do with the sulfate level. As a result there are lots of ships at the bottom that aren’t rotting because there isn’t any bacteria. Since arriving in Trabzon I’ve seen a few signs advertising scuba diving lessons, but my Turkish isn’t good enough for that yet. There are three courses I want to take while I’m here: Turkish, the saz, and scuba diving. First things first. I have to earn money.

By the time I got on the plane to Istanbul, it was Friday afternoon. Next to me sat a retired school teacher who was very inspiring to talk with. It was great to see a school teacher who was still enjoying life. Teachers especially are prone to burning out at some point during their careers for numerous reasons. (One of my friends actually is studying, or planning on studying, this very topic.) While I didn’t have an opportunity to ask her about how she felt towards the end of her career, I got the feeling that she probably still enjoyed certain acspects of teaching. This was just another affirmation that I am on a path that will bring me inner joy. (Note to Krishna: If I’m wrong about this, let me know!) I got into Istanbul on Friday night and Bahadir, an old friend from my college days, picked me up from the airport. My luggage was lost, but for some reason it didn't bother me much. We hopped in his car and began zooming through the chaotic streets of the city. Even though he drives a bit like a madman, I tried imagine the Turkish driving style as a river rushing down the mountain, smoothly dodging obstacles and still moving. Two hours later we arrived at his apartment and I met his lovely wife, Neslihan.



She was so sweet to make dinner without garlic for me at the last minute and I hardly ate any of it. I later learned that this was a little rude as she had taken the time to make something for me to eat (and in a hurry no less). Next time I will do better at stuffing myself as my stomach will be able to handle more food. I wasn't scheduled to fly out to Trabzon until Monday, so I spent the majority of the weekend with Bahadir and Neslihan, who went all out to make sure that I enjoyed myself. Saturday Bahadir and I went for a walk by the water which felt good after sitting for 24 hours.



When we got back to his house he called the airline to find out what happened to my luggage, but after hanging up his face was grim. He reported that my bags wouldn't come for 5 days as they were on their way to Malaysia! Great. I had no clothes! No underwear! How was I going to get my bags to Trabzon?? Oh, this was wonderful indeed. Then Bahadir began to chuckle.

"I'm just joking, Nicole. They'll be here this morning." Phew!

After my luggage was delivered, we drove to the royal section of Istanbul where I met Nelsihan’s mother and sister. Neslihan’s mother was especially fond of me for some reason, even though I didn’t say anything. She didn’t speak any English, but I think she told me to be sure that I came back for another visit



Then Bahadir and I went to Eminönü,* the toursist district. We ran some errands then went to a Nargile place. This a cafe type place where one can smoke fruit flavored tobacco from a hookah.



The whole place smelled of apples and was quite lovely. I gave it a try and it even tasted like apples! I'm not sure why I didn't smoke some more. At the nargile cafe I met one of Bahadir's friends, Oğuzhan (Oguzhan-the "g" is silent). He is a freelance tour guide and is an expert on the history of Turkey and art. He invited me to join a tour he was giving in the morning. So the next day we all got up early to meet him at the ferry station I used to frequent seven years ago.
A few hours later I found myself touring around with a bunch of Bulgarians who didn’t speak very much English. Oguzhan would elaborate in English and one of the older gentlemen would translate for the group. First stop: Topkapı Palace. This place is worth a whole day and we had to breeze through it in less than two hours. My jet lag was beginning to kick in so I don’t remember many of the historical details of the place. The jewels were fantasticly beautiful to see and the religious relics were pretty awesome. As a non-Muslim person, I admit it was a little strange to see hairs of the prophet Mohammad preserved, but one must remember that Mohammed was the founder of Islam. Allah revealed the whole Koran to him, and he is considered the most holy man of the Islamic faith.

Next stop was the Hagia Sophia, the oldest building I have ever been in. Originally built in 532 as a cathedral by Emperor Justinian, the dome collapsed in 563 by an earthquake. It was then rebuilt with a higher dome and other adjustments were made to increase durability. The architechure of the church represented a revolutionary change in the way churches were built. A dome in the center supported by pillars and walls had never been done, and this is exactly why the first dome collapsed. In rebuilding the dome, arches were added in the form of two half domes on the sides of the center dome to add extra support with arches. Since the initial earthquake in 557, it has survived five major earthquakes.



It served as a Byzantium church until 1204 when Roman Catholic invaders from the Fourth Crusades pilaged the place. They ripped off all the intracit gold mosaics destroyed the chruch in other ways. (Just as a side note, I find it interesting that the Crusaders came and stole from their fellow Christians.) In 1453 the Sultan Mehmet took control of Constantinople and declared the Hagia Sophia his mosque. He left the remaining mosaics on the wall, stating that this is a holy place and they are holy images. Eventually plaster was put over the images (Islam does not allow the worship of representations of human likeness) in order to make the mosque useful for their purposes. It remained a mosque until 1935 when Mustafa Kemal Ataturk declared it a museum.

I found all of this wonderful. Walking around the building, I tried to imagine all the thousands of people who had passed here before me. Here is something someone wrote about this very idea.

“Where once potentates and patriarchs, prelates and priests, saints and sinners
moved in solemn procession, tourists now loiter and stare. The images
looking down from the walls are no longer the windows to heaven but silent
witnesses to the profanities of the Muslims and the vulgarities of the
tourist trade. Gone are the chanting priests; gone too are the smells and
bells of the East. No longer do the cherubim descend to accompany and to
praise the Holy Mysteries. The Great Church is little more than a mound of
architecturally ordered stones devoid of the life of liturgy. Away from the
rule of the heathen Turk, in other places where orthodox Christians may
gather one can still perceive imperfectly that vision of the splendor of
heaven unfolded in the Byzantine Divine Liturgy, for ours is truly a royal
worship, the prayer of kings.”

Next stop was Sultanahmet Camii (the Blue Mosque). It was of course beautiful and named after the traditional hand-made blue tiles of the Ottoman Empire.









Afterwards we went out to dinner with Oguzhan.

Later that evening I met up with Selim, another old friend. It was cool hanging out with him because he would say to me, “Do you remeber (insert name of place here)?” I would of course say no, and he would take me there. As we would approach the place, I would instantly remember being there before. In an email before coming back to Turkey, I asked him what he had been up to since we last talked and he said something about traveling around and going to the States. Not until we hung out did I realize to what extent that he traveled. He went as far as Moscow and almost all the places in between there and Turkey. He even went Iran! Talking with him made we want to skip out on work and just fulfill my wanderlust.



On the way back to Bahadir’s apartment I re-met Selim’s old roommate, Mehmet, and played with three little kittens that are growing up in is electricty-less apartment, and rode around in his red Beetle. It was a lovely time, but too short.





Bright and early (actually dark and early) Monday morning, Oguzhan picked me up from Bahadir's apartment at 6 am. Monday was the first day of school and he wanted to beat the crowds which get really bad in a city of 15 million. It ended up being worth it because I got to see the sun rise over the Bosphorus and get three history lessons from the man. I was really tired because I had only five hours of sleep. Anyway, I thought I would sleep on the plane but that was impossible because the Black Sea coast was visible the whole time.



This isn’t a very short summary, is it? Well, I like to tell stories, so I hope you are enjoying this. It certainly is a joy to write.


* There are a few extra letters in the Turkish alphabet that I'm not sure will show on computers in the States. Some of them are ş ("s" with a hook on the bottom), ç ("c" with a hook on the bottom), and ı ("i" without a dot). There are a couple vowels with umlauts, but I hope these show up.

Here I go!

Here are some photos of the last few days.

First we'll start with my sister's 23rd birthday party and the best family photo ever! Well, almost best because Auntie Ingrid isn't in it. Boo.







The next day I said 'bye to my mom. Oh, why am I leaving her?



One last look at my Gramma's house.



After snagging a ride with Susie (sadly no photos of her loveliness), I hung out with Allison.



Now I have some blessed alone time.



The next time I post, I'll be in Turkey. Woo hoo!

How I made it to Chicago

So last night I didn't finish my errands until 10 pm. Oi, veh! In the morning my mother promised to take me around so I could finish all three errands I had left over. After we stopped at Revolution Cycles (my all time favorite bike shop in the world), she insisted that we go to Star Photo before stopping at her house before going to the bus stop. Doodled around the photo place a bit, and as I finished paying, a voice hesitantly asked, "Nicole?" I look up and it's none other than my girl Susie. I had said good-bye to her the night before Kyle left for Ecuador! We excitedly and loudly embraced, both exclaiming that we were off for Chicago. So I skipped going to my mother's house and hopped in the car with Susie and her gang. How serendipitous!

Hung out with my Uncle Peter for dinner. Then we drove back to his place in his 1992 Mustang. Man! That car has some jump to it. Made me miss my brother.

One more night in the good ol' US.

It still feels like a dream.

Whaddya gonna do in Turkey?

Boy, am I ignornat. I sent everyone my blog address without explaining why I'm going to Turkey. Sheesh, how rude. So here goes.

I've always wanted to be a teacher, ever since first grade when Mrs. Hogan did that thing, --uh, I can't remember exactly what she did that was so inspiring. All I knew was that she was cool and I wanted to be just like her. So after deciding that I wanted to travel to Turkey for an extended period of time, a few people suggested that I teach English. At first I was opposed to the idea, because isn't that sort of an imperialistic thing to do? I mean, everyone should speak English because Americans can't speak any other languages, right? (Ignore the fact that English is also spoken in Canada, Ireland, Scotland, England, India, Austrailia, and other places.) I read several arguements pro and con, and in the end thought that maybe it isn't such a bad idea after all. People want to learn English, otherwise there wouldn't be language schools all over the world looking for native English speakers. Did you know that more non-native speakers of English than there are native speakers? This language is really being used!

I love teaching people things, whether it be English, yoga, massage, or how to change the oil in your car (not very hard, try it if you don't know how). So I was convinced that it would be a good job for me. So last June I signed up at a training center in downtown Madison and learned the fine art of facilitating learning. It was a wonderful experience and I feel very prepared to enter the classroom in Turkey. As with any new skill, I could use more practice, but I'm sure I'll be fine.

Just a side note here: If anyone else is looking into teaching overseas, I highly reccommend the Midwest Teacher Training Program (http://www.mttp.com/). The instructors are amazing, supportive, and fun. They realize the program is intense, and add elements to break classroom monotony. This program is even good if you already have an education certificate. There were two teachers in my training session and they learned a lot from it as well. My only complaint is that there are few windows in the joint. Oh, and Dan is a bit obsessive about Jack Richards. Really, the instructors are inspiring and prepare you well for teaching in a foreign country.

So let me tell you what I know about Trabzon. It's 600 miles east of Istanbul, on the Black Sea coast (I must live near water), surrounded by mountains that I have heard have a thousand shades of green due to the amount of rain, and is the biggest city in the region (250,000). They have a soccer team, Trabzonspor, currently ranked number 1 in the nation. I'll be living with three other teachers in an apartment within walking distance from the school.

Let's see, did I leave anything out? I'll be there in a week! Holy smokes.

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I'm standing here outside your door, already I'm so lonesome I could die. "

I've been saying good-bye to people for the last 24 hours now. I have a few more friends and family to say good-bye to and then I'm off! Perhaps I'll post a photo or two before I make my final aufwiedersehen.

At Lula's in Chicago

Hanging with Maddy
Originally uploaded by nicole jilbert.

Some of the people will I miss when I go to Turkey.

Aww, can you see hearts all over the place?

What is it about bicyclists?

Talking with my sister the other day, she made a comment that a lot drivers get pissed off when a bicyclist approaches a red light, but goes right through if there is no cross traffic.

As a bicyclist and driver, I personally don’t see a problem with it.

Why? Lots of reasons. First, you don’t need a drivers license to ride bike. I think it’s unfair to expect bicycles to obey the same traffic laws that cars must obey. The laws were made because of cars, not bicycles. Cars have the ability to kill somebody. Riding my bike around, I have come to realize that the line is fuzzy as to how to classify this vehicle. I can be a “pedestrian” and ride my bike across the crosswalk or I can really be pedestrian and walk by bike across. With one swift swing of my leg I am a bicyclist again, going at least three times the speed of any walker. I can go where cars can’t: crosswalks (already mentioned), in between bushes or buildings, between cars during a stand still, around stopped trains on the track, through crowds of people, and even on the frozen lake. The flexibility offered me by my bike is so vast, that I wonder how people manage with the incontinences of their car every day. Parking, gas, insurance, rush-hour traffic.

Don’t get me wrong, I think cars a wonderful machines. You can haul heavy loads and go great distances in them. The problem I have with cars are two-fold: people rely on them too heavily and lose perspective of the greater good. It’s possible to do some amounts of grocery shopping on your bike. It’s a good workout physically and mentally. Physically, that’s obvious. Mentally, it encourages you to be more organized. If you shop on your bike, you will only buy what you need when you need it. Cars allow us to cram more stuff into our living spaces, causing cluttered homes and minds. Then we spend all our time cleaning our cluttered houses, less time with friends, losing contact with the outside world and becoming depressed, and losing perspective. Driving in a car, we are protected from outer dangers, other cars, street sales people, exhaust. We are also protected from smiles, respect, and (I know this sounds cheesy) love. The car has enabled us to move faster than any vehicle invented before, so we can make quicker deadlines, be some place “right away”, and get things done faster. As a result, our mind forgets that it takes some time to move from one place to the next and we become impatient. The other person is preventing us from getting to our destination and we become upset, and so I think that the person who gets mad at bicyclists going through red lights is jealous. Not because they want to ride a bike, but because the biker is moving and they are not.

So the next time you find yourself in that situation, I ask you to think: if you were a pedestrian, and there was no traffic coming, would you cross the street? The bicyclist is asking the same question.

What will I miss about Madison, Wisconsin?

I am living in the moment more often lately, feeling the wind on my body as my bike pushes past cars, trees, and sidewalks. My poms tickle the underside of my forearms, almost making them itch. Going up a hill, sweat collects on my back, my breathing is deep and rhythmical, and my thighs are strong and aching. When I walk into my destination, still panting, I am aware that I probably smell of fresh BO. My favorite, though, is riding without a backpack, having my entire torso caressed by a breeze. On a humid night, such as last night, it is so refreshing, especially when I flew past the community garden plots. The air becomes a few degrees cooler, energizing my tired body and adding to the spicy food adrenaline rush that has kept me going for the past hour. I sometimes feel less like I'm riding a bike and more like I'm flying.

What else will I miss? So many things that it would be boring to list them all. Mostly though, I will miss randomly running to people I know, riding my bike, and watching the city grow. As I prepare to leave Madison, I know it will never be the same as it is now. Madison will change, as will I, bursting at the seams with conflict. Issues will come up, people will debate, things will happen. My hope is that change needn't mean disaster. As I enter a new country and a new job, my hope for myself is the same.